


It's Not a Home Until Someone Bleeds on the Furniture

by TristansGirl



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-05-04
Packaged: 2017-12-05 04:21:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TristansGirl/pseuds/TristansGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One man's discarded slave is another man's treasure</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will be a short one. Maybe a 4 parter. I needed some hurt!Agron. And I always love me some slavefic. This is set in modern times, imagining a world where the ways of Rome never died out

The marketplace was bustling, alive with people and noise and movement. Some might find it crowded and stifling, but Nasir loved everything it about it. He had always found these kinds of markets exciting, their energy invigorating. 

His friend Marius however, did not. He grabbed hold of Nasir’s arm, stopping him from moving further into the crowd and asked, “Tell me again why we’re not at a respectable slave center?”

“Because,” Nasir said, easily pulling free of Marius’ hold. “Sometimes these places are just as good. Better even. I got Dax from this same market and look how he turned out.”

“Yes, so wonderful you ended up setting him free. That still defies logic.”

Nasir smiled. He knew that Marius didn’t always understand why he made the decisions he did, but he accepted Nasir and was a good friend all the same. “Hence the reason I need to hurry and get someone else,” he said.

Marius grunted, looking around at the entrance to the slave section of the market with mild disdain.

Nasir caught the look and finally took pity on him. “You don’t have to stay. I understand if you want to go home.” 

“I don’t want to just leave you here.”

What Marius didn’t understand was that Nasir felt just as comfortable here, in these supposedly lower-class markets, as in the fancy, gleaming retail centers. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big boy. Besides, I won’t stay much longer myself.”

Marius seemed grateful to go and said his goodbyes quickly, leaving Nasir to walk into the slave section alone. These traveling slave markets were intended for people who needed a slave but couldn’t quite afford the high prices that the more legitimate places charged. A lot of the slaves were inferior, that was true, but some were true gems. Slaves like Dax, the one he had come here to replace. 

He walked past the slaves on display, kept docile by their minders and the fact that they were chained to the ground. 

He looked at them all, man and woman alike, but couldn’t find one that really interested him. The truth was that even if pressed he wouldn’t even be able to state what he was looking for. But he would know once he found it, he always did.

He had come to the conclusion that today would not be the day for finding his new slave when he caught sight of what looked like a cage further down the row. 

Nobody seemed to be paying him much attention, not with the throng of people all around, so Nasir began to walk towards it, his curiosity aroused. The cage was far enough away from everything that Nasir felt as if he were in a no-man's land; completely alone.

Nasir stopped in front of it, careful to keep a safe distance, and looked inside.

Nasir stopped in front of the cage, careful to keep a safe distance from it, and looked inside. 

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see, whether he’d expected the cage to be empty or full, whether he’d expected one slave to occupy it or many. 

What he saw was one slave; half-naked and shivering on the ground.

The slave was male and he was lying on his side, and despite the fact that he was curling in on himself, it was easy to see how tall the man was. The man wore only boxer shorts and Nasir could make out bruises and cuts nearly everywhere that skin was visible. The man’s face, hidden in the crook of his arm, was a mystery, though Nasir could make out that the man had short, brown hair. 

As if sensing his presence, the slave lifted his head slightly. His face was still half-hidden by his own arm, but Nasir could now quite easily see the stunning green of one of the man’s eyes.

He moved closer, saw the man’s head tilt slightly, his gaze steady as Nasir approached. 

“I’m sorry sir, this is a restricted area.”

The voice came from behind him, stopping him cold. He turned to see another man, about his own height with short dark hair and a stern expression on his face. The large stick and whip at his side gave him away as a slaver. 

Nasir wasn’t the least bit intimidated. “Why?”

“Because this slave isn’t for sale. Only those are.”

“Why not? Does he belong to somebody else?”

“No, but . . . he’s not in good condition right now. I can show you some perfectly fine slaves if you’d like to step back over.”

“Well, I’m really only interested in this one right there.” He pointed to the slave, his decision already made. This would be the one. 

The slaver stepped closer, nearing the bars of the cage. “He’s very badly damaged, sir. He’s really not suitable for sale.”

Nasir had already guessed at this, judging by the bruises that were visible but still the statement piqued his curiosity. 

“I’d like to see for myself.”

For a moment the slaver looked as if though he’d argue, then he shrugged and tapped the bars of the cage with the large baton. “Agron, kneel up.”

The slave, Agron, immediately struggled to comply. He faltered for just a moment, but with a sharp intake of breath, was able to push himself up, first to his hands and knees and then to just his knees. He swayed only a little as he looked straight at Nasir. His gaze wasn’t defiant, necessarily. If anything it was frank and open, almost as if he were appraising Nasir as much as Nasir was appraising him. 

Nasir found that he liked that, counting it as another reason to buy the man. Though he did have to admit that Agron was in much worse shape than he initially thought. 

“Did you do this to him?” Nasir asked, whirling around to face the slaver.

The man stood straighter, indignant. “Of course not! He was dropped off here two days ago in this condition. We cleaned him up and gave him pain meds.”

“Why would anyone do this to him?” Nasir whispered, the question clearly rhetorical.

Nasir had seen mistreated slaves before, of course, who hadn’t? And yet, this seemed worse than most. Maybe because he was so close to Agron now, standing only a few feet from the cage, he could see every bruise, every cut in all its terrible glory. He could see how exhausted Agron was as well, could see the pain and tension in every line of his face and body. He would be handsome if his face weren’t marred by dark bruising along his temple and down his cheek, and one eye, his right, was completely swollen and closed. He was also, on top of all that, frighteningly thin. Nasir had an idea of what his body was supposed to look like, what it might have looked like once. But now it seemed as if the man were being starved. 

“Because my master was an asshole.”

It was little more than a whisper but it caught both Nasir and the slaver’s attention as if it had been a shout. The slaver’s face grew red and he lunged at the cage, slamming the baton against the bars. “Shut your mouth!”

Agron shrugged and dropped his gaze. “Just telling the truth, sir.”

Nasir smiled and placed a restraining hand on the slaver’s arm before he could react again. “It’s all right. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to buy him from you right now anyway.”

“But I told you, he’s not –“

“I’ll pay you full price.”

The man stared at Nasir in surprise. “Full price? As if he were healthy?”

“Full price.”

“Excuse me, sirs?” Agron said, interrupting further discussion. “But could I lie back down before I fall down?”

“Impertinent piece of shit . . .” the slaver growled. 

But Nasir only nodded. “Please do.”

He waited, watching as Agron carefully lowered himself to the ground. Then he turned back to the slaver. 

“So . . . where were we?”


	2. Chapter 2

Agron watched in contemplative silence as the two men haggled on his price. 

Even now, after all his years of being a slave, he could never quite get used to being talked about as a thing instead of a person. He tried to distract himself from the sting of it by focusing on his new master. 

He had to admit that the man was pretty, what with his long dark hair and dark eyes. He thought perhaps, if Nasir wanted to lay with him, that it would not be so terrible. At least he wouldn’t have to close his eyes and pretend that it was someone else. Maybe he wouldn’t even have to fight the urge to vomit afterward

He had to laugh at his own foolishness a moment later. He hadn’t seen himself since Raimer had attacked him, but he did know that he looked like fucking hell. Half starved and beaten to within an inch of his life was not a good look on anybody. There was no possible way that Nasir could want him as a bed slave. 

And since he boasted of no special skills like accounting or music, that left being a work slave. And yet he was obviously in no condition to do any kind of manual labor. Only a few short months ago he had been proud of his body and its strength, but now he was little more than skin and bones, more freak show than man. Agron couldn’t believe that Nasir would want him for that either. All of which begged the question; why would Nasir pay full price for him and what in the world could he possibly want him for? 

Speculation was cut short when he was given a tattered cloak and told to rise. He did, painfully, somehow managing not to fall right back over. A collar was placed around his neck and just like that, he was being handed over to this new man, a man who introduced himself as Nasir. 

“You can call me sir,” Nasir said as they walked away from Ashur and the slave area. “Master sounds pretentious and dominus is way too old-fashioned.”

“Yes, sir.” Agron gave a quick nod, committing that to memory, though he was far more worried about how he was going to walk more than ten feet without collapsing. The mild painkillers that Ashur had begrudgingly given him had barely made a dent in the agony that seemed to consume him, and they were wearing off quickly.

Still, he made the effort, concentrating only on placing one foot in front of the other and praying that his new master’s car wasn’t too far. 

They hadn’t made it more than a hundred yards when Nasir placed a restraining hand on his elbow. Being smaller than Agron, he had to look up at him to meet his gaze. “You’re not going to make it, are you?”

Agron wasn’t sure what the right answer should be. Would the truth get him punished or would Nasir be kind? There was no way to know, there never was with a new master. Sometimes one couldn’t even be too sure with a master they’d been with for years.

He finally decided on what he felt was the safest answer. “I can try, sir.”

Nasir gave him an appraising look, letting it linger. “I appreciate the answer, but really I’m surprised you made it this far.”

Agron fought the urge to groan. He wasn’t particularly afraid, at least not yet. But he also wasn’t thrilled about disappointing his new master so soon. 

But Nasir didn’t seem disappointed at all. If anything he appeared concerned. He looked around, his gaze landing on the merchant closest to them. 

“Excuse me, sir. Would you mind watching my slave for just a few moments?” he asked, walking up to the man.

As Agron watched, Nasir handed the man some money and quickly and decisively negotiated a time for his return. He turned to Agron. “Sit and wait for me. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Agron all but dropped to the ground at the merchant’s side, grateful to be able to rest. 

“If he runs, I won’t be able to stop him,” the merchant warned. “I have a stall to look after.”

Nasir look down at Agron, cupping his chin with his hand so Agron would meet his gaze. “You won’t run. Will you?”

“No, sir.” 

The truth was that Agron was physically incapable of running and he was fairly sure that Nasir was aware of that. But Nasir smiled fondly at him, as if he had answered out of loyalty instead of physical limitations. 

Nasir gave him one last caress upon his cheek. “Just hold on a little longer, all right?”

Agron nodded, surprised at the tenderness and concern in the question. _That_ hadn’t been a command, not in the slightest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Agron couldn’t be sure how much time had passed since Nasir had left, but it was enough to irritate the merchant who was tasked with watching him. 

“How much longer is he gonna be?” the man asked for the second time in as many minutes. 

It was so tempting, almost too tempting, to say what he wanted to. Something along the lines of _how the fuck should I know?_ Despite all that had been done to him, despite his many years as a slave, there were times when it was hard to control what came out of his mouth. Sometimes he managed it, sometimes he didn’t. This time, he did. 

“I don’t know, sir. I’m sorry,” he said.

The man grunted, looking very displeased. Agron sighed and wrapped his arms around his legs, bringing them in closer to his body. It wasn’t doing a lot for the pain in his ribs but he had the feeling that the merchant wouldn’t be patient for much longer and it seemed best to make himself small. 

More minutes passed and just when Agron felt sure that the merchant would lose it completely, he caught sight of Nasir. Painfully, he stood and waited for his new master, his good eye widening in surprise when he saw what Nasir was pushing in front of him. 

“A wheelchair?” he asked. 

“A wheelchair?” the merchant echoed, looking downright scandalized. 

Nasir stopped in front of them. “My apologies,” he said, addressing the merchant. “I know I was gone a long time.”

The man stared down at the wheelchair then back up at Nasir. “Um . . . it’s fine.”

A utilitarian wheelchair, one of the ones always kept at the hospitality area by the market, thought Agron.

Smiling, Nasir gestured toward the chair. “Sit down, Agron.” 

Agron lowered himself into the chair gingerly, still not quite believing what was happening. He had anticipated having to soldier on through the pain and exhaustion, fearful that with every step his legs would finally buckle and he would collapse in a useless heap. 

But this . . . never in a million years had he anticipated this.

People stared and whispered as Nasir pushed them through the crowd; enough that Agron began to get nervous. “Sir, maybe I should walk now.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Nasir said, leaning down so he could speak directly into Agron’s ear. “It’s my business if I choose to help my slave instead of watching him struggle and suffer.”

‘Well, fuck it then,’ Agron thought as he relaxed deeper into the chair. If that was his new master’s attitude, then it could certainly be his as well. It was quickly becoming obvious that his new master was a bit unorthodox in his thinking, something that could either bode well for him or prove disastrous. Right now, Agron was in simply too much pain to care.

When they reached the entrance to the marketplace, Nasir helped him up so they could walk the short distance to his car. Nasir had taken the time to move the car as close as possible so that Agron wouldn’t exert himself more than necessary. 

“That’s why I took so long in getting back,” Nasir explained. 

Agron was grateful for this other mercy as he all but collapsed into the rich, leather passenger seat. 

“Thank you, sir,” he said, finding that he meant it wholeheartedly. Whatever trepidations he might hold, whatever wariness towards this man, right now he was thankful. 

Nasir sat in the driver’s seat, body turning to face Agron. He looked thoughtful, almost stern, as he reached over to touch Agron’s cheek. Agron managed not to flinch as fingers settled against his bruised skin.

“Such a shame, what he did to you.” 

Agron lowered his gaze, feeling his face flush from embarrassment. 

“I . . .”

“Push your seat back if you want,” Nasir said, abruptly taking his hand away. He straightened and turned the car’s ignition on. “It’s a two hour drive to my house; a good chance to get some sleep if you’re tired.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” Agron pushed the seat back as far as it would go, feeling the pressure ease off of some of his injuries. Lying here like this, soothed by the car’s gentle motion and the soft music from its speakers, it was as close to bliss as Agron had come in months. 

Whatever horrors might await him when they reached Nasir’s house, at least he had had this respite.

And with that thought, he finally surrendered to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Nasir waited until Agron was asleep, then he placed a hand on his thigh, tracing his fingers back and forth over bruised skin. 

“Mine,” he whispered, enjoying all the promise that the word held. For now, it was a promise of paper and ink, but soon, Agron would truly be his, in every way. 

But first he had to get him healthy, he thought with a grimace. Keeping one proprietary hand on Agron’s leg, he voice dialed his primary physician, a man he had known and trusted since he was a teenager. He explained to the receptionist who he was and that it was urgent he speak with the doctor. He didn’t have to wait long before the man picked up the line. 

“Hello? Nasir?”

“Hello, Dr. Vargas.”

“Nasir, how are you? What can I do for you?”

“I’m well, thank you. And I hate to ask this on such short notice but . . .”

“Nonsense. Whatever I can do.”

Nasir smiled. He paid Dr. Vargas very well for just that kind of answer. 

“I bought a slave today and I’d like you to come and check him over. He’s . . . well, he’s in pretty bad shape.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He was beaten. Badly. And probably starved by the looks of him. I need to know what I’m dealing with and whether he needs a hospital or just time to recover.”

“I see. How terrible,” Dr. Vargas said, sounding like he absolutely meant it. “I can be there in about three hours. Would that be sufficient?”

“More than. Thank you, doctor,” he said, ending the call and turning his attention back to Agron. The man was sleeping soundly now; the pain that had cast such shadows on his face was nearly erased in slumber.

Nasir gave him a long, lingering look, trying to imagine what he would look like without the bruising, cuts and swelling. He scowled at the thought of anyone doing this to another human being, much less one who couldn’t defend himself against it. The scowl grew deeper at the thought that it was done to this particular man here and once again the word _Mine_ echoed within him.

He squeezed Agron’s leg and refocused on the road ahead but not before issuing a whispered promise that no one would hurt Agron like this again. 

Agron slept the remainder of the trip, until they pulled into Nasir’s garage. Intended for 4 cars, it now held only two and was as spotless and well cared for as his home. 

Nasir nudged at Agron gently until he woke. 

“Master?” he asked, startling so badly that he hit his head against the window. 

“Not master. Sir,” Nasir reminded him, careful to keep his voice soft. He placed his hand on Agron’s shoulder, hoping to steady him. “It’s only me.”

It took a moment for Agron’s brain to catch up to the situation but then he blinked and began to relax, nodding as he took in his surroundings. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“No apologies, please. Let’s just get you inside so you can rest.”

Agron nodded and pushed himself out of the car, wincing with every movement and pull of muscle. Nasir hurried around the other side, ready to steady Agron if needed. 

“Welcome to your new home,” Nasir said, opening the connecting door from the garage into the house. There would be time for a tour later but right now the only thing on his mind was getting Agron into his new room to rest. Nasir’s body slave, Cassius, ran up to them almost as soon as they crossed the threshold. Cassius was young, eager and quite capable but he was only filling the position vacated by Dax until a new body slave could be found. And now that Agron was here, he would soon be joining the ranks of his other slaves. Cassius was too nice to hold a grudge but Nasir would be watching him for any sign of it just in case.

“Sir, you’re home.”

“That I am, Cassius.”

“Do you need assistance, sir?”

“No, thank you. I can manage taking Agron to his room. If you could run him a bath though, that would be much appreciated.” 

“Of course, sir.” Cassius looked Agron over with a critical eye and frowned. “He looks . . . will he be all right?”

Nasir didn’t miss the way Agron’s gaze narrowed at the remark. He smiled, pleased with Cassius’ concern. “He’ll be fine. We’re going to make sure that he is. In fact, Dr. Vargas will be here in about an hour to look him over. Once he’s here, send him right up.”

Cassius nodded and hurried away to do as he was bade as Nasir continued to move forward with Agron. Unfortunately, the nap in the car didn’t seem to help Agron much at all. He seemed to be having a hard time summoning up the energy to move and kept listing to the side. Nasir began to wonder if he wouldn’t need help after all. It was a large house, too large really and Agron’s room was upstairs, close to his. He was just about to call for another of his slaves when Agron whispered, “I can do this, sir.”

“Is that your pride talking or are you just stubborn?”

“A little bit of both,” Agron said, lips quirking up into an almost-smile. 

They continued on and by the time they made it to Agron’s room and the adjoining bath the bathtub was nearly full, the water steaming and fragrant. Nasir gave Cassius his leave and turned to Agron. 

“The hot water should help with some of the muscle aches. And I’m sure it’ll feel good to be clean again,” Nasir explained.

“This is really for me?” Agron whispered, looking at the water as if he’d never seen anything like it before. 

“Yes, of course, Agron,” Nasir said. “Now let’s take off your clothing and get you inside.”

Fortunately, ‘clothing’ consisted only of the cloak and underwear, making it easier to take off than if Agron had been fully dressed. Even so, it obviously hurt Agron to divest himself of it and the process was slow and laborious. 

“Will you be getting in with me, sir?” Agron asked once he was fully naked. It was an innocuous enough question, but there was something about the tremor in Agron’s voice, the way his shoulders hunched and his head dropped that told Nasir that Agron was praying that the answer would be no. 

The man was afraid and he was trying very hard not to be, or at least not to show it. “No,” Nasir said, making his voice as non-threatening as possible. “If you think you can manage to bathe yourself properly, I’ll stay outside. But if you think you need help, just call for me and I’ll just stay on my side of the tub and you stay on yours.” He gave what he knew was his disarming smile, happy to see Agron give a small one in return. 

Nasir helped Agron into the tub, trying not too stare too much at his ruined body. The first thing he’d have to do, after the bath of course, was to feed him. The man was thin to the point of emaciation. This, along with the various scars and bruises caused a surge of hatred against whomever had done this to well up within Nasir, stronger than any he could remember feeling in a long time. Agron leaned back against the tub and groaned, slipping down until he was immersed up to his neck. 

“Too hot?” Nasir asked. 

“No, it’s perfect, sir. It feels amazing actually.” He sat up a bit and looked up Nasir, the stare from his good eye piercing. “I know it’s bad,” he said. “My body. What I look like.”

“Why? Why did he do this to you?” Nasir sat on the edge of the tub, gripped by a desperate need to understand.

“I told you, because he’s—“

“An asshole, I remember,” Nasir said, finishing for him. “There’s more to the story than that.”

“I should tell you now?”

“No,” Nasir said, relenting. “No, of course not. We can talk about that later.” 

“Ok.”

“Will you need help?” Nasir asked, already knowing that Agron would refuse. 

Agron picked up a washcloth and poured liquid bath soap into it, working it into a lather. “I think I can manage,” he said, even as his terribly slow movements belied that he might not. 

Nasir nodded and stood. “All right. I’ll be outside if you need anything. Don’t take too long, the doctor should be here soon.”

“Yes, sir.” Agron began to scrub at his skin, gentle and slow. “Thank you, sir,” he added, sounding very much like he meant it. 

“You’re welcome, Agron.” And with that, he stepped out into the other room, sitting down on Agron’s bed to wait.


	4. Chapter 4

Follow me on twitter at isolde_13 for rollicking, good times. Go on, you know you want to :)

So this chapter contains references to a violent sexual act, non-consensual as it applies to slavery. Think of Spartacus and pretty much every scene between a dominus and his slave. It's not described in detail; your imagination will provide those. 

Thank you for reading! 

 

Agron had never, in fact, had a bath in his life. At least not that he could remember. As a young child most certainly yes, but those memories were long gone. As an adult he knew either quick, lukewarm showers or hot ones where he knelt in front of his master for a morning blowjob. On the odd occasion if a master felt particularly cruel there would be a cold spray from the hose. It was still up for debate as to which of the last two was worse. 

So this . . . to sit in this deliciously hot water in this deliciously large bath felt so supremely decadent and foreign that was almost beyond him. It was tempting to just submerge himself and not move until the water grew cold but he didn’t want to upset his new master so he, with great reluctance, focused his energy on getting clean as quickly as possible. 

It was basically impossible to reach his back but he didn’t, not for one moment, consider calling Nasir in. He seemed kind enough, but right now the last thing Agron wanted was to have another man’s hands on his body. 

He finished up and unstopped the drain, watching mournfully as the water flowed away. Getting up was a chore but somehow easier than getting in, his muscles indeed more relaxed from the effects of the hot water.

He dried himself off then wrapped the towel around his waist, taking a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out. Nasir, who had been sitting on the bed, stood quickly and walked to his side. “How do you feel? Did the bath help?”

Unused to anyone being so solicitous, much less a slave owner, Agron was slow to respond. “Yes. I feel better, sir.”

“Good. I was very much hoping you would.” Nasir indicated the bed. “Why don’t you drop the towel and get under the covers?”

This time Agron didn’t bother to ask if Nasir would be joining him. He had seen the way that Nasir has stared at his body earlier. The man was clearly repulsed. He placed the towel on a nearby chair and walked to the bed, noticing for the first time that there was a tray of food on it. 

He slid under the covers and eyed the tray and almost instantly his mouth began to water. He knew he should look away from it, that it would only make it that much harder when his master began to eat it in front of him, but he simply couldn’t seem to draw his gaze away. 

He watched in near complete fascination as Nasir took the tray and brought it to him, setting it down on his lap. “I had the kitchen staff make it while you were in the bath. I thought you might be hungry.”

“This . . . this is for me?” Agron asked, his voice betraying his surprise and wonder. 

Nasir nodded. “It’s only a ham sandwich. I wasn’t sure what your stomach could handle so I thought we’d start simply. I hope it’s ok.”

Agron looked from Nasir to the plate of food in front of him. The tears, when they started, took him by surprise. He wiped at them, suddenly embarrassed at showing such weakness so soon but stopped when Nasir took his hand and stilled it by cradling it against his chest. 

“It’s alright, Agron. I want you to eat. I want you healthy.”

And Agron could almost believe that, sitting here in this comfortable bed, with Nasir holding his hand and looking at him with those dark, warm eyes . . . Agron could almost believe that this wasn’t some cruel joke. 

“I’m not him,” Nasir said and he sounded so sincere that Agron believed it all a little more. 

“Now eat, ok?”

Agron nodded and picked up the sandwich with shaky hands. He groaned in pleasure at the first bite, tried hard to savor every moment on the second and by the third he was gobbling it down, pushing it into his mouth so fast he could barely taste it. He’d had dreams like this; dreams where he could eat everything in front of him and no unfeeling hand would take it away.

He wondered, as he finished the very last bite, if this were one of those dreams. If in reality, he wasn’t still lying on that filthy floor of that filthy cage. 

Nasir gave him cold water to drink then took the tray and placed it on the floor. He helped Agron to lie down, covering him carefully with the blankets. “Now how do you feel?”

Agron took a moment to consider. “Full, sir. And tired. And better.” He almost hated to admit it, since he was still wary, still waiting for the moment when Nasir would rip away the veil of this and reveal the truth of his intentions.

But it appeared that now was not the time as the doctor picked that very moment to walk into the room.

Dr. Vargas was an older man, with gray hair and kind eyes and as Nasir shifted away to a corner and Dr. Vargas took his place, Agron found he was grateful for those eyes. They were never cruel or lustful, not even when the doctor slid the protection of the sheet away, not even when his hands invaded the most intimate parts of him. They were gentle too, his hands, and once again Agron felt the urge to weep. He was able to fight it off, but just barely, and Nasir must have noticed because he stepped forward and took his hand. 

When it was over, the doctor peeled off his sterile gloves and looked at Nasir. “Shall we talk outside?”

Nasir shook his head. “I think Agron would like to know what’s going on with his own body.”

He looked at Agron, questioning, and Agron answered with a nod. 

Dr. Vargas went on to explain that Agron has suffered a mild concussion along with two cracked ribs and bruised kidneys. There was also a lost tooth, a sprained wrist and various deep contusions and abrasions along with severe malnutrition. 

Then the doctor quieted his voice, using the hushed tones of the reverent to explain that there was some ugly tearing and bruising inside that was only just beginning to heal. Agron turned his face away, guilty and ashamed as if it really had been his fault that Raimer had resorted to using a bottle because he couldn’t get it up. He wasn’t aware that he was shaking until Nasir pulled the blankets up to his chin. 

“It’s all right. It’s all right, Agron. You’re safe now. It’s all right.”

Agron wanted to argue, to insist that he wasn’t a child and didn’t need to be comforted, but he was just so tired and the comfort was nice even if he still didn’t quite trust it. 

“I’m going to give him two shots, one an antibiotic and one for the pain. I’ll write you scripts for them as well, along with an anti-inflammatory. He’ll need a dentist for that tooth but I’m sure you have someone you can use. He’s going to need bed rest for at least two weeks, though short walks would be beneficial after a few days. And he’s going to need to eat, I’ll write out a list of suggested foods. Watch the quantity however, his stomach won’t be able to handle too much at once.”

Nasir nodded, agreeing to everything that was said. “Of course, yes.”

“I want to see him in my office soon, three or four days. You can call and make the appointment.”

“Absolutely. Yes.”

Agron lay quietly, listening as he was talked about as if he were either a child or not present. Typical, but it still irked, much as it had when Nasir and the slaver had been haggling over him. 

“And Nasir,” Dr. Vargas warned, “no sexual relations for at least those two weeks.”

“Of course not, Doctor.”

As Agron bit back on his mortification, wishing he could simply disappear into the mattress and into non-existence, the doctor prepared and gave him the shots, then wrapped his wrist. Afterward, he took his leave and Nasir walked him out, leaving Agron blessedly alone. 

When Nasir finally returned, Agron was more asleep than awake, his good eye continuously closing despite his best efforts to keep it open.

“Sir?” He tried to get up, failed. 

Nasir patted at his shoulder. “You should sleep. Someone will wake you with dinner.”

Agron nodded, more than ready to do just that. Soon he would find out if this had all been a dream. His last conscious thought was a prayer to the gods that it had not been.

Three days passed, all bringing more of the same. It was foreign, but in a good way, to have people waiting on him and Agron was determined to enjoy it for as long as he could. Though perhaps enjoy wasn’t quite the right word. He was still in pain and he slept far too much and memories of what he had endured with Raimer cropped up far too often. But still, it was better than any alternative he could think of and he was thankful for it. 

His new master came in every day, once in the morning to check on him and later at night to sit with him until he fell asleep. Nasir seemed to like to touch him, his hair and his face in particular, and Agron began to get used to the feel of the man’s hands on him. 

This night, Nasir came to him after dinner and sat on the edge of the bed, running nimble fingers through Agron’s hair. Agron was still sitting up, in the position most comfortable for his ribs, wearing the sweats and t-shirt that Nasir had bought for him. He felt warm and full and relaxed.

“How was dinner?” Nasir asked.

“Good, sir.” It had been delicious actually, but Agron wanted to keep that part secret for himself. It had only been three days and trust came slowly to him and he wasn’t beyond believing that Nasir would take this all away.

“Good. You’re looking a little better every day. I think Dr. Vargas is going to be pleased with your progress tomorrow.”

Agron nodded in agreement. 

“We leave at 10 in the morning. I’ll make sure Cassius wakes you.”

“Ok. I’ll be ready, sir.”

Agron thought they were done. Nasir never stayed very long at night, but instead of standing up he moved in even closer. 

“I want you to tell me about your previous master now.”

Agron’s stomach dropped and for a moment he felt quite nauseous. He closed his good eye and brought a hand up to his forehead to orient himself. He wanted to ask why they even had to talk about it. Wasn’t it in the past and done? 

He had to bite at the inside of his lip to keep the question inside where it belonged. Slaves didn’t question their masters. 

“I thought you might,” he croaked out, at last opening his eye. It helped to see concern written across Nasir’s face and not just a morbid curiosity. He took a sip of the water on his nightstand and took a breath, exhaling shakily. 

“We’ll start slowly. What was your previous master’s name?” Nasir asked. His voice, his eyes, his entire demeanor bespoke of kindness and patience and that helped too. He had also moved further back, his hands no longer touching Agron, as if he knew that right now, touch would be most unwelcome.

“Raimer, sir. Hadar Raimer.”

“Was he always abusive?”

Agron thought back to his five months with the man, thought back to the very first day. “Yes.”

“Why? Because he was an asshole? Is it that simple?”

Agron tried to shrug, as if it didn’t matter. “He never liked me. He never wanted me.”

“Then why did he have you, Agron?”

He made one last ditch effort to derail the questioning, even knowing that he could get in serious trouble for it. “What if I don’t want to tell you this story? Sir?”

“Then I would have to regrettably remind you that you have to. Because I order you to.”

Agron sighed, admitting defeat. He slouched down on the bed, bringing the blankets up to cover as much of his torso as he could, a mostly subconscious attempt at armor. 

“It’s not even an interesting story,” he said. “Raimer won me in an illegal gambling hall. The kind that moves every night and the players are always different. The kind that’s run by The Underground. He was really drunk though, blackout drunk apparently, because when he woke up the next day he wasn’t particularly happy with what he saw.”

“Unhappy with you?”

He shrugged again, telling himself it didn’t matter. “Yeah. He would tell me all the time how he had wanted someone small and pretty and I wasn’t either one, I guess.”

Nasir’s brows drew close, his face vexed. “Small? Is that why you’re so thin? Was he starving you to get you small?”

“Yes. He didn’t acquire me legally so he didn’t have the papers to sell me. He was stuck with me, at least for a while, so he tried to . . . to change me.”

“How often did he feed you?”

“Once a day, sometimes not at all if he wasn’t happy with me.”

“Oh gods . . .”

“But no matter how thin I got, it was never enough for him. And it’s not like he could do anything about my face.”

Nasir’s hand flitted to Agron’s cheek, just for moment, for the briefest of caresses. “How could he not think you’re pretty?”

“Because I’m not. I’m . . . I don’t know what I am. I’ve been used as a bed slave before so I can’t be completely hideous. But whatever, he never thought so. It didn’t stop him from fucking me, though. Usually when he was drunk. And pissed off.”

“That night . . .” Nasir began. 

“That night he came home really angry,” Agron said. The words were coming easier now, and he found that he wanted to talk about it. Like excising a wound, the poison was draining from it with each spoken word, each ugly truth revealed. “Really, really angry. He hit me a little bit, which wasn’t unusual. And then he tried to fuck me but he couldn’t get hard so he used a . . . he used something else. Inside.”

Nasir looked physically affected by the story, his normally brown skin taking on a sickly pallor. “You don’t have to go on, Agron,” he whispered. 

But he wanted to now. In fact he wasn’t sure that he could stop. “It hurt, in a way that the beatings didn’t and I tried to stop him. It was instinct, I didn’t mean to do it, but I pushed him away. And that’s when he lost it completely. He beat me until he exhausted himself and then he put me in the car and drove me to the market. He left me there, just left me in the dirt as if I didn’t matter.”

Agron blinked, coming back to himself from the memory. He’d been inside of it, reliving it to the point that there was nothing else. Now he was back, here in his new room with his new master, the too-recent aches and pains making themselves very known. He pushed himself down so he was lying flat, utterly exhausted now, wishing for solitude. He had given Nasir what he wanted and now he had to wait for judgment. 

There was nothing for a moment, nothing but the silence of seconds endlessly ticking by. Nasir looked upset, as if he would cry, and that made no sense to Agron because nobody ever cried over their slave. “No one’s going to hurt you like that here,” Nasir said, and he was so earnest that it was almost easy to believe him. “No one. I promise you.”

“You don’t have to promise me anything, you own me, sir.”

“Well, I promise you anyway. You are safe here.”

Agron nodded, his eye drooping closed, his body reaching for sleep. 

“And whatever he may have told you, this was not your fault.” 

“But I wasn’t small and I wasn’t pretty,” Agron whispered. 

“No,” Nasir said, placing his hands on either side of Agron’s face. “You’re beautiful.”

“No,” Agron said, managing a bitter chuckle. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. Even like this. And one day, we’re going to have you believe it.”

“I don’t want to trust you,” Agron whispered. It was a dangerous thing to say, but he was too tired to keep the words solely in his mind where they belonged. 

Nasir leaned down, hovering over Agron’s body without touching. The silky strands of Nasir’s hair tickled at Agron’s chin and collarbone and he had to fight the urge to wrap his fingers around them. 

The urge surprised him and he couldn’t help but think that when Nasir finally took him to his bed, and Agron was certain that he would, that it wouldn’t be a terrible experience. It might even be pleasant. And it might even, eventually, be wanted. 

“I know,” Nasir said, voice as soft and light as the strands of his hair. “But you will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much later, after everyone in the household had gone to bed, Nasir sat in his study and picked up the phone. He dialed and waited for the man on the other end to pick up. 

“I need a favor,” he said, not bothering announce himself; the man knew who he was. 

“What sort of favor?”

“I need someone to disappear. His name is Hadar Raimer. Apparently he was at one of my gambling halls a few months back.”

“You got anything else?”

Nasir shook his head. “Just that. Just the name.”

“It’ll be enough. Hadar Raimer. Got it. Anything in particular or just disappear him?”

“It doesn’t matter. Just as long as he can’t hurt anyone else again.”

“Can I ask why? Who did he hurt?”

“Just . . . someone that belongs to me. And you know how I am about those that belong to me.”

“I’ll make sure he goes screaming.”

Nasir leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Perfect. Thank you.”


End file.
